


falls apart with a kiss

by isoisoashley



Series: Goes Like This [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Epikegster, Lashing Out, M/M, Other, anger and hurt, kent parson is as reliable a narrator as eric bittle, when you make things worse and can't seem to stop yourself, which is to say he's human and skewed by his own emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 15:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isoisoashley/pseuds/isoisoashley
Summary: He’s made it to the base of the stairs when he freezes, feels ice slide over his skin as he catches sight of Jack smiling down at a tiny blonde as he chirps him about taking a picture.And can’t help the mocking tone that comes out, sharp. “I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it myself. Jack Zimmermann. At a party. Taking a selfie.”When rage and hurt shove emotional progress aside and take the wheel.





	falls apart with a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd! If you find any mistakes, please let me know so I can try to pop in and fix them but this has been in my brain and I wanted to finally get it out.

Kent knows it’s a bad idea even as he’s doing it. Only… maybe this time it won’t be. They were good, right? They were texting and had what could maybe be the start of a friendship. Well. They were friendly at least. But for the last month it had been radio fucking silence all over again. Kent knows Jack is trying to figure out what team to sign for. ESPN and the sports news are all over it lately, wondering if Jack’s going to even sign with the NHL (he’s a history major, Kent snorts when some of the team asks if Kent has any insight, like he’s going to do something with that as his degree? Of course he’s going to play hockey). But then the GMs call him in and ask him how’d he’d feel if they made Jack an offer and all Kent can think is that here it is. Here’s their second chance. They can have everything they wanted back then, together, only better because they’re both better people now.

 

But Jack won’t talk to him. At all. Not even to respond to the pictures he tried sending of Kit and Jack clearly has no clue how to turn off the read receipts on his phone because Kent can see that he’s gotten every single one of his texts.

 

Of course there’s another fucking party going on. But this time Kent is fueled by a slow simmer of anger under his skin. He works his way through the crowd without anyone catching on to who he is. Probably because he’s not standing out on the lawn like some sort of moron this time. And, he admits, because Shitty was handing out drinks to some guys on the porch when he’d slipped past and Holster and Ransom seem to be otherwise occupied trying to fix each other’s bed sheet togas. Jesus.

 

He’s made it to the base of the stairs when he freezes, feels ice slide over his skin as he catches sight of Jack smiling down at a tiny blonde as he chirps him about taking a picture.

 

And can’t help the mocking tone that comes out, sharp. “I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it myself. Jack Zimmermann. At a party. _Taking a selfie_.”

 

The blonde must be a hockey fan because he looks up, expression bright as he recognizes Kent. “Oh My Gosh!!”

 

But Kent’s eyes are locked on Jack, heart thudding hard and painful as Jack turns slowly, smile fading. “Kent.”

 

“Hey Zimms.” He shoves a hand in his pocket to hide the fact his fist is clenched into a fist. Feels the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. “Didja miss me?”

 

\- -    -

 

They end up in Jack’s room, this time Kent makes it past the door. Jack had disappeared pretty quick after Kent had showed up. Kent had stuck around for a few selfies, gotten demolished at a round of flip-cup by a pocket-sized girl called ‘Lardo’.  Finally he’d worked his way upstairs and knocked gently at Jack’s door, slid inside at Jack’s quite “come in, Kenny”.  They’d started ok. With actual words. And then he’d caught site of a folder on Jack’s desk, felt everything he wanted slipping slowly through his fingers.

 

He’s standing with a hip against the small desk when he snorts. “The Falconers? What, ‘cause they’re close to here? You need an established team.” Jack jerks a shoulder in a shrug. “Come on, man. You have no clue?”

 

Jack shifts a couple feet over, crosses his arms.  His gaze anywhere but on Kent. “I mean… It could be Montreal, it could be L.A. okay? I don’t know.”

 

Kent takes a deep breath and goes for broke. Most of the anger has faded. Jack had invited him up to his room and was talking. Normal, not the biting tone from the first time Kent had shown up at the house. “...What about Las Vegas?”

 

Jack’s gaze cuts to his, finally, _finally_ looking Kent in the eye. “I...I don’t _know_ , okay?”

 

_Don’t know what, Jack? Don’t know if you want to play on my team? Don’t know if you want to move to Vegas?_

 

He opens his mouth to say something, closes it as he stares at Jack, eyes searching.

 

“Pars--” he moves forward without thinking, fisting a hand in Jack’s shirt as he goes up on his toes and presses his mouth to Jack’s. Feels part of his brain shut down as Jack uncrosses his arms, slides a palm over his hip. He’s not sure if Jack’s nudging him back toward the door or if Kent’s stumbled his way back, but his shoulders hit the wood and all he can think is how much he’s missed this, how good Jack feels against him.

 

Kent’s got his other hand tangled in Jack’s hair when the man pulls back, the hand on his hip from a caress to a barrier, nudging Kent back.

 

“Kenny…” He takes a breath. “I can’t do this.”

 

“...Jack.” He leans his head forward, presses his forehead to Jack’s shoulder. “Come on.”

 

“No. I--uh.” Kent leans up and presses his lips to Jack’s neck, murmurs his name. Feels the twinge in his heart as Jack pulls away, jerks to the other side of the room. “Kenny--”

 

“--Zimms. Just. Fucking _stop thinking_ for once and listen to me.” The anger’s back, the hurt prickling under his skin. His heart rate picks up, and the words tumble out faster than he can figure out what he’s saying. “I’ll tell the GMs you’re on board and they can free up Cap space. Then you can be _done_ with this shitty team. You and me--”

 

Jack’s voice is flat. “Get out.”

 

Mistake. Kent’s made a number of mistakes in the last few minutes but maybe this is salvageable. It has to be salvageable he thinks, panic spreading through him, fingers and lips going almost numb with it. “Jack.”

 

“You can’t,” his face twists into anger. “You don’t come to my _fucking school_ unannounced--”

 

“Because you shut me out!” Kent yells.

 

“--and corner me in my room--”

 

“I’m trying to _help_ \--”

 

“--and expect me to do whatever you want--”

 

“FUCK--JACK!!” Kent takes his hat off and throws it at the wall. “What do you want me to say? That I miss you? _I miss you, ok_?” Kent takes a step forward, hand half lifted. “...I miss you.” His voice is soft. This is how he’ll fix this. And it’s honest. Maybe Jack will--

 

“...You always say that.” Jack’s voice is tired now, and his shoulders are hunched. Like Kent’s hurt him with the words, out of everything he’s said, that’s what’s made Jack shut down.

 

“...Huh. Well, shit. Okay.” Whatever Jack was getting out of their texting, it clearly wasn’t what Kent was or what he wanted. Jack, he studies the man in front of him, didn’t want to be friends again. Didn’t give a shit what Kent wanted or maybe needed. Had he ever? He walks over, leans down to pick up his hat. “You know what, Zimmerman? You think you’re too fucked up to care about? That you’re not good enough? Everyone already _knows_ what you are but it’s people like me who still care.”

 

“Shut up.” Jack’s voice is soft and does nothing to stop what’s spilling out of Kent’s mouth.

 

“You’re scared everyone else is going to find out you’re worthless, right?” It’s everything, everything that has festered in a nasty seed in Kent’s brain, every fight they had just before the overdose when they were both feeling the pressure, scared to death of being not good enough. It’s everything Kent worried about his first few years on the Aces. “Oh, don’t worry, just give it a few seasons, Jack. Trust me.”

 

Jack’s breathing is choppy and Kent knows he’s pushing him closer to a panic attack. He’s a foot above his own head again, looking down and watching as he wrecks havoc.

 

“G..get out of my room.”

 

“Fine,” Kent’s tone is glib. “Shut me out again.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter.

 

Jack takes a breath, then another. Kent’s hand is on the door knob. _Come on, Zimms. Stop me. Say something. Jack. Come on._

 

“And stay… stay away from my team.”

 

From his team. Rage whites out Kent’s vision for a minute. Like this shitty college team matters more than what they had. “Why?” His tone is harsh, a thread of cruelty woven throughout. “Afraid I’ll tell them something?”

 

“Leave, Parse.” Jack’s voice is stronger now, less panic, more anger. But at least it’s hot. Kent never could stand the cool controlled sort of rage Jack could pull out. He swings open the door, hat in hand and freezes for a minute as he looks down and realizes that the blonde from earlier is crouched outside the door. Fumbling for a key or eavesdropping or… what the fuck does he care? It’s Jack’s problem.

  
He clears his throat. “Hey. Well. Call me if you reconsider or whatever. But good luck with the Falconers.” He can’t help himself, he’s already fucked up beyond all belief and yet the words slide out anyway. “...I’m sure that’ll make your dad proud.”

 

Kent closes his eyes and he walks down the stairs into the party, heart beating so hard he can taste it.

 

_Fuck._


End file.
